4pm and on. Lying in the park near the well, watching blue sky, the top of the church towers, and the patterns of the leaves moving with the strong wind in between. The privilege of not having to obey to a particular schedule for the moment.
12th hour of the day again. Same birds, another green. Grateful for the shadow cast by the huge old trees. Hidden well enough by rising bushes and flowers to feel somewhat invisible even to the closer surroundings. The privilege of deciding whether or not to be seen.
(Der Tag als Abfolge von Phasen. Und die üblichen Orientierungsprobleme an deren Grenzen. Das Offene über dem Scheitel spüren. Vorabend schmecken. In die Wolken starren, bis sich die Formationen verändert haben.)
Lone traveller.
A random city.